You Heard Me That Night, Didn't You?
by Winaru
Summary: First Iba overhears a private, albeit drunken, conversation between Yumichika and Aru (OC), then Ikkaku hides in a tree to eavesdrop on Aru and Iba as they talk of their troubles and longings. He still has questions, but he knows what he must do. Iba explains to Aru why he revealed her secret to Ikkaku, while Aru is still kept in the dark about her intimate encounter with Renji.
1. Chapter 1

This is a story that I wrote a long, long time ago. I hadn't realized how long it had been until I read this story over today.

Whether this story is any good, I'm glad I did the best I could when the words were ripe and the inspiration for it was hopeful and courageous.

I hope you will enjoy it.

(Disclaimer: I do not own _Bleach_, obviously.)

-W.

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"You heard me that night, didn't you?"

Aru thought she had approached him as silently as she could; but she couldn't deny that any vice-captain could sense the minutest trace of reiatsu even from worlds away. Especially a vice-captain who used to belong to her division –the eleventh division of the Gotei thirteen –and had rather successfully led that infamous collection of warriors: known for their natural propensity to feed indiscriminately upon their own lust for battle.

His head remained still, and the impenetrable darkness of his sunglasses prevented anyone from following the trajectory of his gaze. Yet she knew that he had sensed her presence, and that he had been listening intently to her even before she had spoken. Noticing the approach of another soul, whether that of a friend or fowl, was an imperative part of any warrior's training. And as Iba Tetsuzaemon had once been a superior to the current third seat of her division, she probably wouldn't have been surprised even if he had heard her approaching footsteps –carrying the rustling of the grass and the winds –the second she had decided to come and visit him.

She heard him smirk; a mocking sound that answered her imposed question without words.

"You should be more careful next time." His voice was deep and conveyed an air of seriousness. "The sake you and Ayasegawa favour may not seem strong at first, but a few sips too many would completely veil your minds."

It was Aru's turn to smirk. Yes, of course _he_ would know about discriminate drinking. But she could tell by his tone of voice that he hadn't been drinking, not recently at least, and she felt it better that she didn't make her point.

"A nebulous mind is in danger of revealing the darkest and most unspeakable secrets."

A wave of guilt crashed against her conscience. So he did hear it from her after all.

And there she was, thinking that any vice-captain could sense the presence of a hidden Bankai for themselves, even if it had been subdued with the utmost skill.

"Yet, I can't say I didn't enjoy the surprise on Ikkaku's and your face –or fear, should I say –when I told him that I knew."

"I'd have loved to see the surprise on _your _face that night when you heard it from me first."

He chuckled. "Alcohol really does let you miss out on the most satisfying of moments."

She silently signaled her agreement.

_But it also dulls pain during times of despair –when you feel you've been impaled through every last morsel of flesh on your body. _

She kept this comment silent, carefully tucked away into her subconscious, and sat down beside him on the last dry patch of grass.

It had rained yesterday. She wondered whether it had been out of happiness and pride for their victory, or sorrow for the defeat of the Arrancar. Whose side did nature stand on? But that no longer mattered the slightest: Victory had decided to shine its light upon their side, while defeat doomed upon the other. Peace had been restored to Soul Society and Karakura town. The substitute Shinigami, Quincy, and the rest of the humans had returned to dwell among the living. Life had gone back to the way it had always been. Yet, she couldn't deny that _some_ things had indeed changed –things that had been involuntarily led astray, and events that she could not reverse. That was why she had chosen to visit him today. To speak to him, in hope that she would discover a way to reconstruct the past without turning back time.

"You heard me that night, didn't you?"

He was not surprised to hear her repeat an already discussed question. There were words with multiple meanings; there were also questions that demanded variant answers.

"Yes. And I believed, and still believe, that he had a right to know."

She praised the unified spirit of comrades. Even if they didn't belong to the same team anymore, the spirit of the eleventh division still flared undyingly within them both. And so, she was not surprised that he knew this was one of those questions with two different answers.


	2. Chapter 2

I guess from now on passages in _italics_ will be character flashbacks.

Disclaimer: I borrowed Automail from _Full Metal Alchemist_ (but don't worry, just this one little item found its way from Amestris to Soul Society. Ed and Al won't be making any wacky surprise appearances). Only the OC character Aru and some of what the original _Bleach _characters say and think about her belong to me.

~W.

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_"Ikkaku's an idiot." _

_ "The values of the eleventh division are _completely_ convoluted."_

_ Sake had caused them to throw out words from their mouths that would have been bound to balls and chains on any other occasion._

_ "But especially Ikkaku's whole 'my dream is to die under his command' ideal..." Pausing, she took another sip of sake. She closed her eyes either think of evidence to support her capricious declaration, or simply savouring the taste of inebriation. "Why is he so devoted to this squad? Why the hell is he so loyal to Captain Zaraki?" Amidst the superficial tone of a drunken young woman, there was a slight accentuation of annoyance in her voice._

_ A smile crept across Yumichika's buoyant face, glowing in a colour comparable to that of the hair of a certain lieutenant. "Ah, a lot of history goes into that answer…" He replied airily. And since only sober people care about details, the blank was only filled by the scattered chirps of the summer crickets._

_ "It's as if he thinks his life isn't worth anything –as if he thinks he's _expendable_. That's what he thinks deep down, isn't it? That his life will only come to matter in the face of death."_

_Yumichika remained silent. And because sake reawakens the soul's dormant attachment to soliloquies, she continued speaking –to herself at least, if not to anyone else. _

_ But he _was _listening. He knew that the bottomless contents of the heart only surfaced during moments of solitary speech, and there were still mountains of things he still wanted to know about her. _

_A cloud in the dusky night sky unveiled the moon, and the luminous coin's light cast him into the shadows. He lay there quietly, as if in secrecy, letting the sound of her voice flow into his ears along with everything she had to say._

_ "The idiot has just too much pride." The words escaped from her mouth fast enough to avoid the gush of liquid that swept down her throat. "And the more pride a person has, the harder it is for them to swallow it when it's necessary for them to do so… That's why he is so reluctant on releasing his Bankai isn't it?" She paused briefly though she was not expecting an answer. "Pride for his place in the eleventh division, pride for his utmost devotion to his captain… That's why he didn't release Ryumon Hozukimaru until the very last minute, isn't it? Until the very, very last moment when he knew that he definitely would have died if he didn't."_

_She heard a soft rustling of leaves nearby, but heeding no attention and not wanting to disrupt her current reverie, she simply took it for a cat wandering aimlessly in the night. And somehow, she knew that if it were a cat; it would have definitely been a black one. _

_ Black was the colour of the Shinigami. White was that of the Arrancar. And the towering image of one particular Arrancar pieced itself back together in her mind._

_ "Edorad Leones…" The very name tasted bitter in her mouth._

_Shinigami in the eleventh division never repeated the names of those who had died in battle. By facing defeat, they had tainted their name, their rank, and everything they had yelled out during the opening of a fight to the death. From then on, whether the deceased had been a comrade or enemy, their name would connote nothing except weakness and shame. And the strong halls of the eleventh division had no tolerance for such inferiority. But just by saying this name aloud, Ikkaku's face –distorted with anger and pain, yet smiling menacingly with wretched joy –resurfaced in her mind, along with everything she had felt that night while watching him being thrashed around like a broken toy whose irreplaceable value nobody acknowledged. Fear, above all, was most intense and distinguishable. Especially after Yumichika uttered the words: "See… that overjoyed look on his face… Ikkaku's having so much fun…" His voice at the time was soft and calm, but his attempt at indifference was futile. Even Asano Keigo, someone who had known him for only a day, could easily have sensed his staggering anxiety. She hadn't even tried to hide hers. She could only imagine how futile her attempts at keeping _him_ calm would have surely been. _

"_What would he have done if it somebody other than Asano had been there that night?" She asked the cool air of a placid summer's night, although she was equally curious on why he had decided to release his powers even with Asano around. But the answer came to her as quickly as the question left. Of course, it was Ikkaku; he would have paraded that hideous expression on his face where his mouth stretched towards the sides of his face and his lips puckered downward showering spite and malice, while he leered down at his victim through mere slits for eyes that were capable of spurring uttermost fear in the prey that itself didn't know it was capable of feeling. She smiled. "The same expression he gives to people who call him 'bald'". She thought. Asano certainly wouldn't have wanted to remain at the end of that kind of trajectory for long. And because of that, he wouldn't have dared expose Ikkaku's secret to anyone. Asano was someone weaker than him, so Ikkaku had willingly exposed his darkest secret in his presence, knowing that keeping him quiet would be effortless. A fly that knew the secret of a man's palm has already positioned itself in the centre of the hornet's nest. _

_And even without thinking, she knew the answer to her previous question. If anyone other than Yumichika, Renji and herself had been watching him that day; he would have died, right before that person's eyes. And whoever it was would never have known that it was their presence that had brought about his death. _

"_He would have died." She said, answering her own question with no hint of hesitance. She knew Ikkaku as well as the motionless figure beside her, and understood his actions and all the reasons behind them. But understanding never implied acceptance. _

"_I just don't get it!" She exclaimed. Frustrated or simply tired, she closed her eyes and released a heavy sigh that smelled intensely of sake. "If he wants to be so proud, why doesn't he just get stronger? That's what this convoluted division is all about isn't it? –Strength; and fighting to victory even when it will eventually kill you. Isn't Bankai an indicator of strength and superiority? Then why doesn't he embrace that fact with the pride of a warrior who belongs in the eleventh division?" She didn't understand why she was speaking in questions, especially since there was no one around to answer. _

_The light of the moon now fully shone upon her companion in the hollow darkness, illuminating his face and accentuating a spiritual glow on the fine features that he had so often boasted haughtily about. "Indeed, one does look more beautiful when one isn't vaunting over his own beauty." She chuckled under her breath unaware that he had heard every word she said from the very beginning of her 'soliloquy'. She saw him frown, but simply took it as a sign of a bad dream and unconsciously slipped back into her solemn reverie. _

"_His pride as a warrior of the eleventh division… is no more than blatant childish stubbornness! Full of incoherent ideas compiled because he sticks to the first and most primitive idea that pops into his head and is too stubborn and idiotic to think of better ways to solve the problem before him. He says that he cares about winning and that losing is worse than death, but the way he attacks someone face on when he's injured, the way he never lets anyone come to his aid in battle, the way he fights without ever releasing his full power… it's as if he's summoning defeat to devour him every second that he is in battle…_

"_A fight is meaningless if you just end up losing –even more so if you lose from pure stubbornness to release your last speck of power. And losing either way would taint both your reputation and pride as a warrior of the strongest eleventh division! So, why do you still risk facing defeat when victory is only a few steps away?"_

_Taking a long, lasting sip, she laid herself down on the cool wooden flooring that would act as her warm and comfortable bed tonight. Her elbows were bent on either side of her body, adjoining with the outline of her waist in forming a shape representing that of a triangle, raising the upper half of her body –in order for her eyes to continue wandering in the night sky that was becoming more and more embellished in beauty with the more times she drained her sakazuki dry._

"_So just win! You should just do everything in your might to simply win! It doesn't matter whether you run off or attack from behind as long as you win! It doesn't matter whether you fight two or a hundred against one as long as you win! But, if you want not to be called a coward, then become stronger so you can win with a frontal attack no matter what condition you're in! If you want not to be helped by your comrades, then become stronger so they will feel no guilt as bystanders witnessing your pain! If you wish to continue hiding your powers, then become stronger until you no longer need to depend on them to win! Become stronger, and win in the face of death." Her face was already glowing crimson under the influence of sake, but when Yumichika decided to risk a slight glance in her direction, he noticed that it was a colour different to his own. "Just become stronger… and be proud for that. Wouldn't that suit your personality better…?" In silence, they both filled that lingering blank with the same name._

_There were still questions he wanted to ask her. The mountain of enigma had degraded slightly in height, but it still loomed down upon him, and he knew that his curiosity and pride would not cease to thirst for the peak of this Everest. He wanted to ask her what had prompted her decision to return to the eleventh division, and what had settled her determination to leave Soi Fon and the second. He wanted to ask her why she decided to return despite the barrier of differences that prevented her from ever truly belonging to the eleventh, and why she had chosen to leave the captain to whom she had sworn a lifetime of service and allegiance, not to mention forfeiting her position as vice-captain of her division. Yet even more, he wondered why she was willing to forsake everything that she had once worked strenuously for; everything that she had risked every fight for, something she had desired above all else… He wanted to ask her what had veered her soul towards a path entirely different to the one she had been walking down all her life; what, or who had transformed the alter into the lamb, and what, or who would now become the new alter for which she would continue to present with offering after offering until it finally drained the last droplet of life from her soul. _

_But the sound of her heavy breathing signaled that night had already prevailed over her mind. And seeing that her mouth would no longer deliver words to satiate his thirst, he sat up, his legs crossed under the sweeping black cloth of his robe, and emptied the last trace of liquid stubbornly clinging to the bottom of the slim-necked container. With some difficulty in his drowsy state, he raised himself to his feet, staggered over slowly and quietly to her side, crouched down and wrapped his black robe gently around her right arm. He knew that metal froze readily on bitter nights like this one, so his eyes relayed back and forth from the blade of her shoulder to her fingertips, carefully inspecting that every inch of gray flesh was protected as best as it could. She was never one to complain about the pain afflicted on her by that metal limb; everything from its initial installation when her wound had been sliced open and wires stringed onto her nerves –thus letting flesh and metal become one –to the afflictions caused by daily life and the constant battles that came with it. But the duty of a friend is to attend to the pains and frailties of a fellow comrade, so it was his duty to watch over her. Even if the ideals of the eleventh division prevented him from ever helping her in battle, he would remain by her side –and Ikkaku's too –simply because presence alone was the only form of amity they were willing to accept. _

_At this very moment, Yumichika's eyes shined with a gentle glimmer of kindness and endearment. But no one, not even Iba Tetsuzaemon, who had already left after the falling of the first silence, was present to see it before it disappeared._


	3. Chapter 3

"You do understand that if anyone else had heard you that night, you would've been hated throughout the eleventh division." He said, his tone loitered between care and accusation, but if one were to remove the sunglasses that shadowed him from both day and night, one would have seen that his eyes connoted only care. She however, could not see behind that dark exterior and heard only blame.

"In that condition I was in, it's not like I was in control of what I was saying…" Her eyes wandered away, her face laden with forceful guiltlessness that wanted relief by finding fault in the person who had induced it. "And besides, it's not like you should have heard anything I said anyway!" She paused, allowing time for guilt to sink in, while also cueing him to provide an explanation for his appearance that night. But confronted by only silence, she decided to expel this intention. Her eyes returned to face the immaculate field that lay before them. At least five figures were moving rapidly in the distance. A continuous clattering of blades informed them that they were either training or engaged in battle. But their past and present entanglements with the eleventh division prevented them from entering the boundaries that they drew across the field with the swift movements of their feet.

"Although, I was indeed surprised when I heard those words come out of your mouth –especially at a time like that…"

Iba's strong, stern voice pierced back into her mind like a vigilant boomerang, along with Ikkaku's face –covered with dirt and a watery mixture of sweat and blood –suddenly brimming her heart with a twinge of pain and sorrow.

"_You're expendable. That's what you think deep down, isn't it Ikkaku!" _He had said, or she had said, if one were to trace these words back to their origin. _"That's why you don't care if you lose." _

Either because of having been hit squarely in the face while injured—and the sensation of pain had finally been reawakened from countless years of negligence—or because Iba's words had pricked a nerve that bore the name of pride, Ikkaku's face, already laden with cuts and bruises, personified the destructive rage of fire that came across fuel. He staggered to his feet, his teeth clenched, and his eyes glaring in flames. He raised his right arm that carried a branch –once Hozukimaru –and vehemently launched the fragmented Zanpaktou in his provoker's direction.

"_Why do you insist upon coming at me head on when you're injured?" _

His voice was steady and contained in clear contrast to that of his attacker. Perhaps that was why his words were the only ones that now remained wholly in tact in her mind. Ikkaku's yells of unobstructed anger had been so distorted that only a muted image remained. At first it had only been the reluctance to remember the anguished cries of her patients facing automail installation. But after numerous operations that her memory no longer had the capacity to contain, her mind, as if conditioned by some invisible being, began to slowly erase those sounds that had so often beaded her forehead with sweat at night.

Iba caught the woody limb ably in his palm, and with one swift movement, sent its wielder sprawling on the ground. He knew that it was a mark of respect to not witness the piteous moments of a fellow warrior, so he turned his head away from Ikkaku, allowing the air to carry her words into his ears. But he still managed to notice that Ikkaku's hand was nevertheless clutching tightly onto what remained of Hozukimaru, and his heart sneered at the heavy-headed stubbornness of his past division. It was true that a broken weapon did not signify broken chances of victory, and that only letting it go foreshadowed defeat; but it was also true that a stick was not a weapon –it was merely an object that rendered this proud man with a formidable confidence that would eventually bring about his end.

"_A frontal attack is meaningless if you just end up losing." _

He wondered if she had even started to realize that he was repeating the words that had escaped her mouth just days before, and whether it was gratitude boring out from her eyes, or just pure shock or spite. But whatever she was feeling, he believed that it was necessary for him to hear these words –from his mouth at least, if never from anyone else's. The man had allowed the enemy to destroy one of the four pillars he had sworn to protect. For the sake of his pride, he had forsaken his mission, and willingly abandoned his place as a protector of the Gotei thirteen. Whether it was pure coincidence or that someone had deliberately planned his encounter that night, at this moment with both these people present, he saw a chance of using one set of words to awaken two individuals who dwelled in a mistaken perception of their true worth.

"_It doesn't matter whether you run off or attack from behind as long as victory meets you in the end!"_

He knew that Ikkaku would have despised these words. Iba's face showed only irritation at the man's stubbornness, yet his heart beamed with the pride of a superior at his subordinate's utmost devotion to the morals of his squad –a squad that Iba himself had once belonged to, fought for, and had once been willing to die for. It would take an eternity for him to forget.

He heard the man gasp deeply for breath as he staggered to his feet and wiped away a trickle of blood exuding from the corner of his mouth. _"I don't fight like a coward dammit!" _He heard the man yell from behind him, and wondered if it was the fear of initiating this uncontrollable rage that had prevented her from speaking her soul out to him prior to this moment. But being two people whose bond had been heavily tied by their shared understanding of this man, he understood that fear had only been a mere crumb of her reason. He realized this as he opened his mouth to reveal the last fragments of her inebriated speech that night.

"_Become stronger Ikkaku! Don't you think that would suit your personality better!"_

Such words –strong, decisive, and sharp like the edges of a zanpaktou that could slice through metal –out of her mouth however, mixed with her care and hesitance, would only have sounded dilapidated and weak.

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Hope you enjoyed the first three chapters. Reviews of any kind will be greatly appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

For how long had she wanted him to hear these words she could no longer remember. And now, having them said out loud right in front of her, she wondered why she had never managed to say them to him. Iba made it seem so effortless to humiliate a friend in the presence of both his captain and his enemy. Yet if it had been her, she would have tried to be more discreet. Perhaps then, in the conscious presence of none but each other, he may have been willing to listen to what she had to say. Perhaps then, for once, he would have fallen silent as he heard her emotions accumulate beneath her skin, and saw her eyes lower in a strange sorrow that clouded the natural colour of the sky. For once, if ever, she wished that her words could carry _some _importance to a person she cared about. To render some difference, any difference that may eventually prevent reckless death from befalling him any time soon. She had seen what Kuchiki Rukia meant to _him_. Her words, everything she said was like pieces of a puzzle crafted to match the image of his heart. He held on to every word no matter if it stabbed him or embraced him. He clung on to each letter the way he never wanted to let her go; as if letting even one slip away will cause her to fall one step farther from him –until eventually, hope will disappear along with her –never to return.

She was afraid that if her words could not pass into the barricaded mind of a friend, they might never penetrate into another that had so forcibly shut itself off from any trace of sound that didn't belong to _her_.

But what could she do. There existed nothing that she could change. An idiot like Ikkaku who cannot stop fighting until all his flesh had been slashed into pieces will never stop fighting until all his flesh had been slashed into pieces. And a man like Abarai Renji whose trajectory of sight only falls upon Kuchiki Rukia with such bliss, peace, and agony, will never fall upon anyone other than Kuchiki Rukia with even half that endearment. Not herself, not anybody. And she was the last person able to change anything.


	5. Chapter 5

Again, the concepts of 'equivalent exchange', 'transmutation', and 'automail' belong to _Full Metal Alchemist _and Arakawa Hiromu.

Hope you enjoy this chapter as well! As always, reviews are greatly appreciated, and even if you don't have time to write a review, drop by swiftly to say "hello", just so I can know you're out there! :)

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The small hill on which they sat in these moments, watching over the training field of the Shinou Academy, was truly an ideal location for translating the soul's mystic language. Especially in autumn, when the clatters of the student's swords coalesced with the rustle of the crisp leaves below their adeptly moving feet, created a sound that would have been melodious to any ear. And a continuous swirl of red and orange surrounding a white blur created an image that seemed almost artistic. Not long ago, she herself had been amidst that blur of red and orange, gazing up at the peak of this very hill, dreaming for the day when she would look down upon this field with a black robe whipping in the winds. And if it were possible, wearing a white haori with a number printed boldly on its back.

"Why did you decide to return to the eleventh?" He asked with a demanding tone. "It wasn't simply out of loyalty to the eleventh division and Captain Zaraki was it?"

Her eyes wandered to the far corners of the field. There had never been a reason for why she had decided to come back. It was the result of an impulse, and impulses usually never had reasons. After seeing Ikkaku slip past death's virulent grasp, the impulse had somehow been created, fervently calling at her to return. The thought had lingered in the back of her mind during their coiled brawl with the Arrancar Luppi. And after the night her own sword had devoured her right arm in a swarm of red light, her decision was finalized. She would return.

"I don't know." It was all she could say. And it was the truth. For once, she had not hidden anything within these three words. Besides, spectators are the only ones who are able to readily observe discreet patterns in a chain of events. Iba himself, as well as anyone other than Ikkaku and herself, could have well answered his own question.

"I think I just missed the times when we were in the eleventh together. Those days when we swore loyalty to the eleventh and Captain Zaraki, that we would fight along his side no matter what." She smiled at the fragility of promises. "We were the first ones to break the pact weren't we? You were dissatisfied with your position and left to become vice-captain of the seventh division, and I followed suit as vice-captain of second."

He grinned. "Not to mention you also became Vice-Commander of the Patrol Corps. Dammit, it was quite a promotion you got back then. And I didn't even know the face of my own captain!"

"You're quite good at hiding surprise then." Come to think it, she had only known him to have three faces: that of anger, drunken joviality, and nonchalance. No surprise, no sadness, no outburst laughter. She wondered what had erased all other signs of human emotion so that only the most mechanical remained. "What made you want to leave?" She asked.

"Promotion from within was impossible. As long as Zaraki's captain, you know that Yachiru would always be his vice. The only way I could ever have become a lieutenant was to transfer to somewhere else."

"So, it was for personal ambition then."

"You could say that." He said frankly. But she knew that there was definitely more, just as she knew that there was a pair of soulful eyes behind those dark lenses that not even light could penetrate. But if it was all he was willing to give, she didn't see the need in questioning him further. Pain was something best held silent –although he seemed to think otherwise.

"I wasn't foolish enough to go against the pride of the eleventh just to save some wretched coward if that's what you mean."

The intimate atmosphere immediately gave away to negative energy that brimmed the sky with invisible black clouds.

"I just don't see how anyone could want to be a spectator of a death they could prevent. How anyone could be willing to watch a comrade die just because some idiotic belief told them they shouldn't even try to save them. It's all in their heads, this pride, this honour –none of it exists anymore if you can't even save the people you care about."

There was something that made sense in her words. Something he felt as though he understood. Perhaps it was in the way she said it –bluntly, with strength, but also accentuating a hidden sorrow that felt somewhat familiar.

"And why would you _care_ about Iemura Yasochika of the fourth?" She thought she heard him stifle a laugh.

"If he was killed, then tell me who else would have saved you and Ikkaku back then? We were seven against at least eighty, and all three of you could have bleed to death if Iemura hadn't been there to heal you in time!" She glared at him. "You were impaled in the chest and who knows how many times the bald idiot had been slashed by the enemy! If you don't recall, I actually saved all your lives that day! If I hadn't released my Zanpaktou, who knows how pathetically you would have died –and _that _would have tainted the name of the eleventh worse than a breaking a stupid law made by some group of idiots. I defeated the damn enemy when you and Ikkaku were lying in your own blood, and you can't take that from me just 'cause Akai Kagayaki is a kido-type Zanpaktou!"

Nobody had the choice of whom they had as their Zanpaktou; obtaining the name of an invisible partner was a series of events that relied purely on coincidence –a gift or a curse depending on the shinigami, or in this case, his or her division. The eleventh had an unspoken law that deplored any zanpaktou that relied on the use of kido instead of direct combat during battle –a rule she had never truly understood, along with many of the other fundamentals of her division that, at first, only seemed like an empty piece of paper speckled with blood. Nobody had the choice of whom their bladed partner would be; those who were fortunate enough embraced the presence of a gift, while others concealed or entirely abandoned the use of their wretched curse. Her sword was a curse, and would always be –regardless of the division that held her allegiance. But she felt no shame in wielding it: the weapon she used to save her friends.

"I had enough of the convoluted principles of the eleventh that just never made sense to me to begin with. That's why I left." Her voice gradually began to stray, along with the return of a dulcet nostalgia. "The rest was all equivalent exchange. Even in your case. A tarnished pride and a seated position in the eleventh in exchange for the place as lieutenant." She saw his head lower with what could only have been scorn. She knew he felt the same about equivalent exchange as she did about the spirit of the eleventh.

"And you abandoned all that just to return."

Her answer came silently along with the breeze of a peaceful mid-afternoon, disintegrated by the clattering of swords and rustling of leaves.

"Your actions rely too boldly on your emotions." He said. A soft note tailed slightly at the end of his words, but she had not succeeded in finding it. "And that's what made you leave." _And it's also what made you come back…_

"You're expendable. That's what you think deep down, isn't it?"

She stared at him. Her eyes sharpened from within a distant reverie back to the inconsistencies of reality. She had wanted to say these words to him; she had heard these words said to him; now, and again, these words appeared in a flash before her ears, but this time, in the presence of only one other person –she was to be the designated listener.

Silence is a mass of empty words that has not yet matured from thought. And since emptiness cannot replenish a hole hollowed by silence itself, the black hole swirled violently in between them. And although colours of beauty occasionally illuminated within the whirlpool of darkness, she never tore her eyes away from him, afraid that he would escape with only a question lingering solemnly in the air. The silence weighed upon them, waiting impatiently for words to release the elastic band suddenly stretched miles apart, fixated by her shock and confusion. She was shocked because something deep down told her he was right; but not knowing how or why, she couldn't let anything waver her trajectory of sight until he broke the silence with an explanation.

He could feel her vehement stare burrowing into the side of his face. It pained him that her ignorance had to be exposed by someone like himself, who pretended nothing existed outside the triangular barrier where power, pride and battle were its only treasures. But, it had to be done. He had to know, or rather, _he _had to know.

"You think that your presence is expendable, your thoughts, your feelings, you think it all means nothing to everyone. You didn't say anything to Ikkaku because you were afraid that nothing you said would inspire so much as a speck of change in him. That anything you said would only repel back to you, that nothing was even worth his opening up his stubborn mind for. You don't think he will listen to you because you don't even believe you deserve it."

He was right. There was nothing for her to deny. His words fit perfectly into an incomplete puzzle whose final image she had already seen.

"Why did you come back? But we all knew that you left the eleventh! You couldn't let your own ideals subside to be replaced by those of the eleventh. Yet what made you return to this place that held everything you believed in question? Why did you forsake your place in a division where you were respected and nobody ever questioned your actions?" He turned his head to see the black eyes that were supposedly blue. "We –Ikkaku, Yumichika and I –wanted to ask you for the answer, but we knew you didn't know it yourself.

"When you lost your right arm, you told Ikkaku that you wanted to come back because you were no longer worthy of fighting alongside Captain Soi Fon. You said you would rather return to the eleventh even to hold the petty position of seventh seat because you wanted things to return to how they were. The eleventh division was the very first division you entered along with Ikkaku and Yumichika, he knew that it was more than a home to you so it seemed like a logical enough explanation, especially after what you had been through..." He paused and turned his gaze back to the green pastures that lay before him. "But it would never have been the same." His voice hardened. "Because even if you returned, even if _I _returned, _he _wouldn't. And that wouldn't have been the "past" that you wanted to go back to. And you knew that, didn't you? Because when you weighed yourself and Kuchiki Rukia on his heart, you realized that equivalent exchange doesn't exist! No matter how much you had sacrificed, or how much you were going to sacrifice, you realized that compared to Kuchiki Rukia, you were merely a feather of friendship and comradery, and nothing more.

"Time, almost a hundred years, eroded nearly all your aspirations. And then you returned because you realized that some things couldn't be gained even by sacrificing everything there is in the world.

"In a way, you're just like Ikkaku. Two convoluted idiots living just for life to be taken away. You think your life is nothing more than a sacrifice. Something to be eventually given away to gain something you hope is of equal value. And somewhere in your heart you know this, that's why you didn't want to lecture him about valuing his life, because you don't even care a damn about your own! What equivalent exchange? It's just something your mind made up to explain why you still haven't gotten what you truly want –"

"And you think this is what I want!" She had raised the sweeping sleeve of black cloth, revealing a cold slab of iron that had been delicately manipulated to resemble an arm as best as it could. "You think I'd believe in equivalent exchange for this? I don't believe, Iba-san, I _know_! Nobody can gain anything without sacrificing something of equal value. It works by no other way! There's no way someone can gain something without paying a price."

"What did you attain for the price of your arm?"

"It wasn't a price. It was a punishment for violating a sacred law of transmutation –something my sword couldn't forgive. I was so enflamed in the will of battle, that I forgot the one condition that limits the abilities of Akai Kagayaki." Her fists clenched; her nails dug the white rim of her sleeve into her palms. "I forgot that Arrancar had a part of them that made them Shinigami, and that Shinigami were the condensed remnants of human souls! Even though Hollows also have souls, theirs have been so tarnished with sin and death that they are no longer seen as human souls in the eyes of Akai Kagayaki. My sword is blind to everything but the souls of those he fights. He recognized the Arrancar's soul as that of a human –even only slightly –and for that, I had to be punished." She raised her right hand; he heard a soft screech of metal as she watched her unfeeling hand open and close to reveal nothing but another gray layer that could no longer feel the caress of flesh nor the warmth of the sun. He had seen the tear along her shoulder where flesh gave way to metal; it was a pain that existed beyond both his experience and imagination; a pain that nobody should ever deserve. Lest of all, her.

He watched a leaf fall from a tree that had cast them into spotted shadow –a brown and crisped leaf, flushed with the colour of autumn even though it was already late spring. He saw her extend her right hand to retrieve this stubborn leave that had fallen months after its time, but no sooner did her two fingers come together to lift the frail stalk, it shattered and fell back to the ground in pieces. With a hand made for the strong, the delicate only suffered under its gentle grasp. She didn't feel the crumbling of the stalk as her hand closed around it, and he wondered why she, out of all people, had been chosen to wield such a cursed sword.

The pitch-black wings of a hell butterfly fluttered past and disappeared in midst the shining green leaves of the tree that had just lost its most ancient resident. She didn't notice it passing, but the two people who did, realized that peace was just as fleeting as the dawn of chaos.

"You want to go back again, don't you? That's why you came."

Silence told him that once again, he had not yet been betrayed by his intuition. He saw her black sleeve fall back over her gray arm –the leaf was nowhere to be seen.

"I always thought that Omaeda was a coward. Even as a third seat in the second division, he was arrogant, cowardly, and boasted on and on about what supposedly little strength he had, in the same way that Yumichika still boasts about his so-called "beauty". But ever since his battle with Captain Soi Fon against that Arrancar in Karakura town, I've had to force myself to reform this image of him in my mind." A smile softened her eyes. "Captain Soi Fon's found herself a good lieutenant –although he may sometimes look, and sound otherwise…

"I would be lying if I told you that I don't want to return because I do. I'm not saying I regret returning to the eleventh although I admit it was only a result of an irrepressible impulse, but there is, and will always be a part of me that will remain devoted to Captain Soi Fon no matter which division I'm in. I know you believe that forsaking my pride and honour as vice-captain was almost too great a price to pay just to make Ikkaku realize that he isn't some expendable idiot (although he _is _in fact an idiot) and that there are people who actually gave a damn about his life… but, and I'll say this no matter how much you'll despise me for it: this is all an outcome of equivalent exchange! Think about it! Captain Soi Fon sacrificed her arm and thus garnered enough resolution to defeat the enemy; Omaeda had to repress all the humanity in him in order to cut off her arm, and eventually saved her life! And if I hadn't left the second, and had been fighting alongside her that day…" He saw her eyes glance downwards at arm in what seemed like helplessness and sorrow, "…I wouldn't have been able to cut off her arm the way he did…and I would never have forgiven myself for it…Iba-san, intertwined in fate are those small sacrifices we make that only repay us in the end. And without them, no one will ever achieve anything in this world. To walk, you must first stand; to fight, you must first train; and for _us_ –Shinigami –to live, we –or someone else –must have killed…I don't think you'd deny any of that…

"Being in the second, I was definitely closer to what I had been reaching for all this time. But it's just as Yumichika says: five is a more beautiful number than four. Sometimes, you're closer when you appear farther away…and no matter how far you are from it, both still take you to where you want to be. A retrospective step is nothing more than a step up a hill you have left behind: to admire the miles you've already covered. Such a step makes the journey longer, but it also fills you with an even stronger resolution to advance because it's too late to turn back…

"You know, it's wasn't until just now, in this place, that I remembered; when I looked down upon the very place I had once looked up from… We've all come a long way, haven't we? You, me, Ikkaku, and Yumichika. All from being anonymous faces in the dirtiest streets of Rukongai –for whom no one would think to spare a second glance–to who we are now. Everything we've been through –separately and together –all the battles we've fought, all the times we've almost died. Iba-san, I'm sure that if you look back, you'll also believe that equivalent exchange does exist…"

Unable to see his line of sight, she could only assume that he was still staring into the distance. She hoped that he had listened, and was now reminiscing his past, scrutinizing over her words, and finding their validity. She needed him to believe that equivalent exchange existed so he could assure her that it was true when eventually she, herself, would come to believe that her revenues were not of equal value to her sacrifices.

"How long will you stay with the eleventh this time?" He asked, aware that it was cruel to subdue her hopes so quickly.

"I don't think it'll be temporary. There're a lot of things in the eleventh that the second didn't have. I've missed them. And according to Yumichika, seven is not such a bad number, and he's given up gloating (about our perfect reflection of positions; not his self-entitled beauty) so I should be fine where I am at the time being." He nodded in acknowledgment. The eleventh had always been somewhat of a home to her, and she was the kind of person who needed to come home once in a while. He didn't see the necessity of his worry. Besides, Ikkaku was there, and so was Yumichika, and he knew that they would rather die than allow bad things to happen to her. He smirked under his breath at the irony of his last thought. They'd have died at least a hundred times each by now…

"You're actions rely too much on your emotions." He said again. "You don't commit to a division based on its ideas, strength, or on what it represents. Instead, you commit to it based on its _people_. You joined the second division because you said it was taking step closer to the sixth, therefore a step closer to Abarai Renji. And later, you returned saying that you missed the eleventh –Ikkaku and Yumichika –and you're even willing to be demoted five whole seats just to come back." He chuckled amusedly. "You're like no one else in the Gotei thirteen I know. Exactly _where _does your loyalty truly lie?" He knew her too well to expect an answer. Her heart was a magnet that clung fervently onto everything that passed its way. Every memory, every word, every person inhabited an area in that heart of hers. It made her an excellent friend, a skilled listener, and loyal comrade, but it would hinder her from ever distinguishing what mattered to her the most. If one day Soi Fon were to call her back; if somehow Abarai Renji were to surrender his sealed heart to her, he wondered if she would realize that buried under all those lustrous words and faces of the passer-bys in her life –closest to the flesh of her magnetic heart –was a person (whose head reflected all the radiance of the sun) waiting –as she was –for the impossible.

"What does it matter as long as it remains within the Gotei thirteen…?" She asked passively to the open air. "Besides, it'll be centuries before _I _make captain… and _only_ then should I start thinking about treachery…"

Acknowledging her whimsical attempt at humour, he scoffed, "The only treachery you'll ever be capable of is kidnapping Inoue Orihime so your automail store can go back into business; or else slashing off all _our_ limbs in order for you to do so."

She breathed out a smile. "I believe you've all had to make peace with the fact that I'll never become strong enough to be another Aizen, right?" She said, stretching out both her arms towards the sky, as if signaling some sign of victory. The metal of right arm reflected a ray of light into her eyes but she resisted the urge to squint. "Although, I can't tell whether it's a good thing or bad…"

He watched her solemnly as her words were carried away by the sounds of the winds. She seemed startled at her realization that a thin line lay between good and evil at a certain point of strength, and all one needed was a reason to cross it.

Just then, without a sound, the hell butterfly that had been lost among the emerald sea of leaves reappeared and no sooner than that, it disappeared again –camouflaged against her robe of a similar hue. He saw its web-like legs graze past her gray flesh when she held out a hand to heed its presence. He saw her nod as it communicated to her in spiritual whispers, and her eyes narrow as she scrutinized the delivered message. And even after the winged messenger fluttered off into the distance –its mission complete –he did not attempt to ask her anything. Answers are sometimes received without asking one question, just as gains needn't always follow a loss of equal value.

"Captain Soi Fon wants to see me." She said, raising herself back onto her feet. "At the main quarters of the ninth division…" The rest of her sentence lingered in a question waiting to be posed.

"What do you think they want you for?" He asked on her behalf.

"I know as much as you do." She replied, smiling in a way that told him she had already surrendered herself to whatever would come to pass.


End file.
